Lightning rod pro, current world number
three, Griffin Colapinto survives stoning on beach by rabid
Brazilian surf fans only to have spine ripped out in water by
Peruvian journeyman!
By Chas Smith
Blood in the water.
I have always enjoyed Griffin Colapinto’s
surfing style. He seems, to me, a sort of evolved Kolohe Andino.
All the tricks, all the ability, but… that little something extra.
A sprinkling of diving magic. Well, that little something extra has
propelled the young San Clementine to the very top of the World
Surf League championship tour rankings this 2022 season. The high
point, an event win in El Salvador over perennial top fiver Filipe
Toledo.
The proud surfing nation of Brazil and its most passionate fans
very much disagreed with the judging and took their capoeira out on
Colapinto, threatening to gather a mob on the sands of Saquarema in
order to pelt the boy with stones.
Now, this is where my enjoyment of Colapinto’s surfing style
transitioned to an enjoyment of his personhood. The current world
number three might have run scared, claimed “transit visa” issues
or an injury that only allows him to surf pumping Bali but he did
not. He shrugged, hopped on a plane and landed in Brazil, ready to
go.
The rage-filled horde failed to materialize but handsome Griffin
wherein he was narrowly defeated by Brazilian Michael Rodrigues in
the opening round and, seconds ago, had his steeled spine ripped
right out in the elimination round by Peruvian journeyman Miguel
Tudela. The heat got off to a fine start for the Lost team rider,
Colapinto ducking into a racing barrel while Chris Cote spoke loud
words, but that was mostly it and now he is finished.
Peruvians, man. First they invented surfing, now this.
Sneaky.
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Can Gabby Meds buck history and get through a few heats
in Brazil?
Comment live, vital elimination round as
Gabriel Medina faces world-title ending last-place finish, Oi Rio
Pro, Brazil, “Lets see if you will cheat again. Shame on you!”
By Derek Rielly
Online warlords ready keypads!
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Median fans. Thiago Diz/WSL
Gabriel Medina shock loser as promised
riots fail to materialise on day one, Oi Rio Pro, Brazil, “In no
fewer than eight attempts, Medina has never made a final in
Rio!”
By JP Currie
You would have have put good money on Gabriel
Medina, even though history would tell you it was ill-advised.
No riots.
No Griffin Colapinto being torn limb from limb on the Saquarema
sand like warm bread.
Not a single furious fan in sight.
Just amiable, handsome people, cheering on their countrymen with
joie de vivre, and soaking up a bevy of chunky lefts and
rights.
It was a crowd typically overstated by the WSL broadcast team.
Strider and Kaipo’s mock-ecstasy was in full effect.
So exciting, so much ENERGY.
Unbelievable. Etc.
They were so overwhelmed they were lost for words. By this point
we understand that “lost for words” is a euphemism for “ran out of
vocabulary”.
The partisan crowd were treated to a starting line-up of eleven
Brazilians from a total of twenty-four surfers.
Surf statisticians can check for me, but I’m going to claim
that’s the highest percentage of a single nationality ever to begin
a WCT event.
Justly, given the results of the opening round.
Five of the seven heats containing a Brazilian surfer had a
Brazilian victor. Gabriel Medina did not win his heat, but Yago
Dora (as a replacement) did, as did wildcard Michael Rodrigues.
It was Brazilian conditions, chunky beachbreak that required
dynamic two-turn combos and quick-twitch muscle fibres. They were
waves we might have grumbled at in the past, but given what we’ve
seen the past couple of events they seemed, frankly, rather
exciting.
Surfers could go two directions, there were few lulls and the
waves had some grunt. Split peaks suddenly seemed like a terribly
fresh and exciting proposition!
Several surfers caught ten or more waves over the course of
their heat, and that was a very welcome change, even if they
weren’t perfect.
What they did offer were sections to bash and punt, and this was
considerably better than watching surfers straightline long,
crumbly sections at G-Land, or nurse knee-high slop in El
Salvador.
Italo made the most of it in the opening heat of the day in a
sparky performance reminiscent of his past self that elicited a
large deposit from me. There was nothing too spectacular, but
just…something. He is the quickest of twitchers, he’ll fit three
turns where others manage two, and he’s very much due a win.
Zen-master Griffin Colapinto opened his heat like he was
impervious to the online cacophony that has followed his El
Salvador victory, not least from his own mother.
After opening with solid seven, he was comfortable for the
majority of the heat, until Michael Rodrigues started spinning. The
crispness of his rotations eventually edged the heat from Colapinto
by just 0.06 points.
But for my money the most impressive air of the day went to Jack
Robinson in the next heat for a huge straight air, grabbed
frontside. By my estimation he was at least eight feet above the
lip, and I wouldn’t have quibbled if the 8.17 had been a point
higher.
It was another comfortable victory for Robinson, who looks more
assured by the day.
I noted the intensity of the breathing exercises and stretching
he did pre-heat. Questionable haircut aside, he and Julia must cut
an imposing presence in the competitor’s area these days. And I
mention her again because she seems very much part of his
fortification.
Toledo did Toledo things in his opener. They were all very
dynamic and impressive, of course, but I feel slightly beleaguered
by the inevitability of his surfing this year and understand how
the judges must feel.
He spoke of tiredness himself in his post-heat interview, saying
he needed a break.
It made me reflect once again, as I often have, on the fact that
it’s possible to kill everything you love. It’s cliched to say that
you should turn your passion into your job, but it’s also terrible
advice.
What is there that wouldn’t become a chore if you were forced to
do it?
Rest up for Teahupo’o, Pip. That’s your Finals Day.
Yago Dora made it four Brazilian victories from the first five
heats, edging out Kanoa, who did little wrong. Kolohe Andino was
also in this heat, but I’m afraid his goose is well and truly
cooked.
You’d have put good money on Gabriel Medina continuing the
Brazilian blitzkrieg, even though history would tell you it was
ill-advised. In no fewer than eight attempts, Medina has never made
a final in Rio.
Improbable but no less true.
If he wants to subvert the course of this unlikely history he’ll
need to do it via the elimination round. He could only manage a
palty 6.40 heat total today. It was an admittedly wave-starved heat
as the tide filled in, but Medina was well out of sorts.
Connor O’Leary took the victory, and if he keeps on winning
heats eventually I’m going to have to watch him more closely and
find it in my heart to write about him. But for now I’ll just say
“on yersel, big man”, and that’ll have to do.
Another big man who continues to do unlikely things is Jackson
Baker The Candlestick Maker. He advanced to the round of 16 today,
even though less than a point separated him from Jordy Smith and
Callum Robson.
Honestly, I took the opportunity during this heat to play a game
called “statues” with my two boys. One of them pretends to sell me
a statue (the other one), which I then pick up and place somewhere.
To my great surprise and their great hilarity, every time I turn my
back the statue appears to have moved to a new location.
The game was vindicated when no-one managed a double figure heat
total, but well done, Jacko, nonetheless.
The final heat of the day was won by Miggy Pupo, the most
heart-warming aspect of this being that Caio Ibelli lost.
A deep-rooted problem in the WSL was evidenced again today when
Chris Cote revealed he was a “sherpa”, as he and Pete Mel referred
to it, for some of the surfers. Cote had carried one of Kanoa’s
boards to Brazil.
Cronyism? Nepotism? Some kind of ism.
A bit weird, at any rate.
Much like Kaipo’s adverts for tyres. As authoritative and
well-researched as his surf punditry, he told us the tyres he was
petting like an old dog had excellent suspension and torque. They
were good for everything apparently, sand, mud, pavement, even, the
very oddly specific – limestone.
I’m certain there’s a used car dealership somewhere where Kaipo
would fit right in.
Eu sou brasileiro, com muito orgulho, com muito amor, as they
say on the terraces and the beaches.
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Robinsonho.
The Brazilian-ification of Jack Robinson
leads to stratospheric rise propelling young Australian to possible
first world title and fulfillment of heavy childhood destiny!
By Chas Smith
Green and golden hair.
Aside from never-before-seen growth across all
platforms and the poaching of top-level NBA talent, the
greatest story of this 2022 World Surf League season, even
eclipsing Kelly Slater’s Pipeline win at near 50-years young, is
that of Jack Robinson. The Western Australian currently sits at
number two in the world, having taken two events already and
possibly on the way to fulfilling his childhood destiny.
But imagine being born a prodigy. Being born with the weight of
wild expectations on your shoulders. That you would, someday, be
The One.
I was never going to be The One unless “The One” refers to a
surf journalist who can badger certain folk in the surf industry
into eventually responding then writing volumes about that
interaction, cornering them with a barrage of dumb so fast and
furious that early round knockout becomes all but guaranteed.
15 – 0.
Robinson, though, was it. A talent so prodigious that even the
most short-sighted could see his arc. Except the weight of wild
exception is heavy and Robinson seemingly faltered, or seemingly
faltered until this year. His rocket to the top-adjacent is, again,
is the greatest story of the year but to what can it be
attributed?
The answer is simple.
Jack Robinson has been Brazil-ified. From marrying into the
wonderful heritage to dying his hair blonde to publicly working out
on Instagram to Sharp Eye surfboards to surfing with a purpose,
back-paddling etc., the Man from Margaret River is now within
striking distance of his first world title.
Genius.
Genius to smell a winner and get onboard. Like Kevin Durant
joining the Golden State Warriors in 2016.
David Lee Scales and I, anyhow, talk about that particular
genius and other things too. I can’t remember. I’m jet lagged.
Enjoy.
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@curvysurfergirl Instagram
Activist struts through New York’s Times
Square wearing nothing but pink bikini; uses surfboard as cudgel to
bash body-positive message over un-evolved heads!
By Chas Smith
The spice of life!
It ain’t the 1940s anymore, Bub, in case you’ve
been hiding under a rock. We live in a brave new world where
passive racism, sexism, paternalism are no longer “hip” or “cool”
and those who practice such thinkings get deservedly shamed. Very
un-chill to believe, for example, that there is one standard for
beauty and all people should strive to fit into that cramped
box.
To bash this truth over somehow still un-evolved heads,
body-positive activist Elizabeth Sneed waltzed into New York’s very
crowded Times Square, days ago, wearing only a hot pink bikini and
carrying a triple stinger’d longboard to use as weapon of truth and
justice. A cudgel of enlightenment, as it were.
Sneed, who creates content under the moniker Curvy Surfer Girl
on social media, says, “I want the world to know women with curves
are surfers & athletes. What better place than New York City to
show the world.”
I am not a massive New York City fan so can think of better
places to be but that un-evolved thinking misses the point
entirely. Her fans, on Instagram, thrilled at the move, one
writing, “My inner little girl is so grateful to you.” And another
declaring, “Loving this and what it’s doing for our surf
culture.”
It thrilled my inner girl, too, as variety is the spice of life.
Lineups choked with middle-aged men, hair medium length, of medium
build, wearing black neoprene, riding pointy thrusters so dull.